


Forging A New Path

by Kagetsukai



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Sarcasm, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagetsukai/pseuds/Kagetsukai
Summary: Garrett Hawke is on the run.Everybody is looking for him, from the Divine down to an angry Starkhaven Prince, and Hawke's not willing to wait around Kirkwall to find out exactly what they want from him. After a year on the road, and on Varric's suggestion, he finally settles down in the least likely of places: South Reach, Ferelden. With clean-shaven face and grown out hair, he's doing his best to look nothing like the infamous Champion of Kirkwall, while trying to blend in with the locals. With a new job and new surroundings, his life finally seems to calm down.But does it really?





	1. A New Life

_Autumn, Dragon 9:38_

By the time Garrett Hawke saw the first indication they were approaching his destination, the sun was already below the horizon, tinting the sky with a haze of orange and yellow. The caravan he traveled with was an interesting group that consisted of dwarves and humans of questionable reputation that he had started with in Amaranthine. A trek through Ferelden wasn’t safe at the best of times and being a fugitive from Kirkwall and escorting wagons filled with expensive textiles almost begged for something to happen. Thankfully, the travel thus far had been rather uneventful.

And it was almost over. Others would continue along the King’s Highway and Garrett would finally get to rest. Varric had promised that his contacts in Ferelden would keep things smooth and quiet, and that once Garrett had settled in a small town in the middle of nowhere, nobody would find him; nobody would want him to be the hero again.

As they finally lumbered through the city gates under the watchful eyes of city guard, Garrett immediately started looking around for the man who was supposed to be his contact. It didn’t take long - there weren’t many dwarves this far from Orzammar and this one stood out even in the twilight, what with being bald and sporting a big, black tattoo above his right eye.

Garrett sighed, grabbed his pack and made it over to the man who was easily half his height. 

“Varric sends his regards,” he intoned, but was interrupted by a derisive scoff.

“Varric can shove it up his hairy arse,” the dwarf replied. “Do you have what he promised?”

Clearly this one didn’t like shallow pleasantries, which was fine with Garrett. He reached into his pack, fiddled a little with a hidden panel, pulled out a packet that weighed just over a pound, and handed it over.

“It’s all here like we agreed,” he said with a grin. “Make sure to send me an invitation when you break into it. I could use a cup of--”

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole,” the man exploded and yanked the package out of Garrett’s hands. “This better be legitimate or I’ll have your head on a pike.”

 _I would like to see you try_ , Garrett thought, but didn’t say. The comments and the attitude meant this dwarf didn’t know who he was dealing with and it was for the better. If this sleepy town in the middle of Ferelden stayed ignorant of his true identity, everybody would be safer. So Garrett opted to stoically watch one thick finger dip into the contents of the packet and then lift it back to the man’s mouth, all covered in thick, brown powder. After some prodigious humming and lip-smacking, he looked up and nodded.

“It checks out,” he announced.

Garrett grinned again.

“Is the deal sweet enough for you?” he asked, unable to resist the pun.

The dwarf glared.

“Don’t push it, Kirkwall,” he grumbled. “What do I call you anyway?”

It was the most loaded question of all, but thankfully Garrett had had some time to think on an answer ahead of time.

“It’s Malcolm,” he said cheerfully. “You can call me Mal, if it’s easier.”

By not providing a last name, Garrett automatically placed himself on the lowest rung of the social ladder, a person so unimportant he didn’t even have a last name to give pride to his father. A nobody. The dwarf immediately understood the ruse and squinted up at him; a powerful person like Varric Tethras did not go to such lengths to smuggle someone without a history. Thankfully, the man didn’t comment on it. 

“Mal,” he repeated. “I’m Vedran. I run the tavern in this Stone-forsaken town and you’ll be staying with me for the time being.”

Garrett frowned again.

“What do you mean, for the time being?” he asked. “I thought Varric’s payment took care of things.”

Vedran shrugged.

“Varric paid for a month to put you up at my place and feed you, and I will do exactly that. If you’re planning on staying longer, you’ll have to find a job and lodging.”

Of course. Either Varric had failed to mention that this would be the arrangement or Vedran decided to make up rules as he went along. He had the advantage too, because Garrett couldn’t just turn around and leave. It was either agree to this arrangement or continue with the caravan and end up in Redcliffe, where things were getting unstable with every passing day. He decided to take his chances here.

“I guess I’ll be sticking around for now, then,” he said and threw his pack over the shoulder.

The dwarf turned around and grunted.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Either way, welcome to South Reach, Mal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to a new story of mine! I've been slowly writing it as time goes by and I've decided to finally release the first chapter into the world. As with my other stories, updates will be slow - I work an unholy amount of hours and it's hard to write when exhausted. That being said, comments and kudos are love!


	2. All In A Day's Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett is both a little bored and worried about town's interest in his person. One man's tragedy is another man's opportunity, so when he hears some news, he decides to try something new.

“I’m telling you! She’s one of them lays-bee-yans, she’s not going to give you a time of day.”

Garrett squinted at the man before him.

“Did you hear a word of what I just said or did you stop after ‘I need directions to the smithy’?” he asked.

The man hiccuped drunkenly – which was impressive, considering it was just after the midday bell - and snorted.

“Ro will skin your hide. She’s scary like that.”

This wasn’t going to get Garrett anywhere, so he abandoned the town alcoholic and set out without directions. It had been two weeks since his arrival in South Reach and he was gradually getting used to the much slower pace of the place. While the tavern still got rowdy and loud, it was nothing in comparison to what Kirkwall had to offer on the best of days – it also made him twitchy for activity. He ended up helping at the bar, but it soon became clear that since he was new in town, everybody wanted to ask him questions and find out details of his ‘mysterious’ past. He needed a place to stay out of the public eye.

Through that same grapevine Garrett found out about the death of the old farrier, which meant that his apprentice would take over the role and might potentially need help. Garrett had never done such work, but he figured that having considerable strength and ability to adapt quickly would help him get a job. He didn’t even bat an eye when Vedran pointed out that the apprentice - now the new smith - was a woman and one with a reputation for sharp tongue and no-nonsense approach. After all, having spent a considerable amount of time around Aveline and Isabela taught him all he needed to know about women who put up with no bullshit.

Unfortunately, the townsfolk had a poor attitude towards this new farrier; they kept swearing they had no issues with a female doing a smith’s work, but they always followed it up with comments on her ‘mannish’ appearance or assumptions about her sexuality. Even before he met the woman, Garrett swore to be as polite and as kind as he could, because if these people were so willing to make judgmental comments to a stranger, he could only imagine what they said in front of _her_.

After a fair bit of meandering and asking for further directions from people who were categorically less inebriated, Garrett finally arrived at the smithy. It was a small place but tidy, all tools of the trade hanging neatly on the wall or arranged on the tables for an easy access. It looked empty, so he assumed the smith was away or perhaps taking the midday meal break. Deciding to wait for her to come back, he stepped inside and reached for a weapon on the nearest table.

It was a simple hatchet, one you could use to clear out bramble or make a pathway through a forest thicket, but the craftsmanship of the piece was beyond a simple blade. The curve, the edge and the grip all worked in tandem to make something that was easy to hold and even easier to swing - which he tried, of course. 

It was perfect.

“What do you think you’re doing?” came an angry female voice from the other corner of the room.

Garrett carefully placed the weapon in its intended place and turned around, mentally preparing to battle wits with a hardened woman who ran the forge. What he found instead shocked him into silence, whatever words he had prepared disappearing into thin air. Instead of a tall statue with rock-solid muscles, he was met with a young woman, lithe and strong, with a delightfully-rounded face framed by a crowd of short, blonde curls. If she hadn’t been wearing soot-covered overalls, she could easily pass for a noblewoman.

“If you’re done gaping,” she continued, venom in her words precise and deadly, “I need you to leave. I have a lot of work to do and no time for idiocy.”

By the pointed arch of her eyebrow, Garrett perfectly surmised who she thought was the idiot.

“I’m sorry, I’m new in town,” he said with a shrug and what he hoped to be a disarming smile. He relaxed his shoulders and did his best to appear non-threatening. “I was led to believe that the new farrier would a bit more…”

“Ugly? Mannish?” she readily provided with a sneer.

Garrett winced. “Statuesque?” he tried, then sagged when the women’s face clouded over even more. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. It seems like I might have been sabotaged by the townsfolk into believing something that isn’t true. I just wanted to talk with you about some employment.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately.

“If you think you can just walk in here and take over my forge, you have something else coming your way,” she said. “I apprenticed here for six long years and I won’t have some upstart take what’s rightfully mine.”

This wasn’t going the way Garrett had envisioned it at all.

“I am not a blacksmith!” he said, frustrated. “I’ve never done this line of work, but I heard you don’t have an apprentice of your own and I know how every smith needs someone to work the bellows or do the menial work. I need the money and maybe a place to stay, that is all.”

It looked like his words were finally coming through the way they were supposed to. The farrier paused, her mind clearly weighing this new information against her assumptions about him, so Garrett made sure to look as appealing and trust-worthy as he could.

“Are you staying anywhere right now?” she asked. “Can anybody vouch for you?”

Garrett tried not to look _too_ relieved.

“I’ve been staying with Vedran for the past two weeks, though I’m eager to not have to listen to him snore anymore,” he pointed out and chanced a small grin. “I’m definitely not afraid of hard work or getting dirty.”

The woman hummed to herself, thinking some more, when her face changed suddenly, as if she remembered something.

“Wait, you’re that guy from the tavern that everybody keeps talking about!” she said with amusement. “The rumor mill has been busily chatting about you for days. Is it true you’re a prince from Free Marches who had to run away so you wouldn’t be killed by your lover’s jealous husband?”

She clearly didn’t believe a word that left her mouth, but at least she was no longer scowling or wanting him to leave, so Garrett decided to play along.

“Aye, me lass!” he said in his best Starkhaven accent – which was rather shitty. “Me lover lied to me and now I’m hiding to save me wretched life. All me riches are lost and now I have to work with my hands just to get by.”

He felt incredibly silly trying to emulate Sebastian’s speech patterns, but apparently it was enough to lighten the mood. The woman snorted at his clear attempt to feed into the rumor and shook her head.

“It would be quite a feat to have a legitimate prince work for me,” she commented.

“If I find a prince, I’ll make sure to send him your way,” Garrett shot back. He was starting to really enjoy this woman’s sense of humor. “For now, I’m afraid I’m all that’s available.”

She shook her head with amusement. “Unfortunately,” she said. “I’m Ro, by the way. What’s your name?”

“You can call me Malcom,” Garrett replied, his father’s name already easier to use as his own. “I am here to serve.”

With the topic of possible employment back on the forefront of the conversation, she crossed her arms and gave him an appraising once-over. For a moment, Garrett had the impression she was appreciating more than just his potential for being a capable worker, but chose to ignore it.

“Here’s the deal,” she intoned. “I am willing to take you on, but I need to see if you are capable of taking directions from a woman and if your arms are really as strong as they look.” She pointed towards the bellows. “You will start those up and heat up metal for me to work.”

Garrett narrowed his eyes just a fraction. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

He shrugged. “Alright. Tell me how to do that.”

An hour later, and with a couple of horseshoes cooling in the water, Garrett left the forge feeling exhausted and satisfied. For the first time in a long time, his future seemed just a little optimistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all technicality, I do have Ro's face claim in an OC file, but it'll take me some time to change it into something that I can show. Also, I do have some interesting (read: drool worthy) ideas for what Hawke looks like these days. I'm hoping to get some artwork done, so stay tuned :D
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are love.


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